New Eyes
by h3art0f1nk
Summary: During the Last Battle, a tragic accident occurs and it changes Ron's life forever. However, it gives him a new way of seeing things. Could this tragic accident actually bring him closer to the one that he loves?
1. Prologue: The Last Battle

**New Eyes**

Prologue—The Last Battle

∙ ∙ ∙

_Summer, 1998 _

"Stay back, and don't interfere!" shouted Harry, nearly blinded with pain from his scar. With his hand cupped over his forehead, he pushed his two friends behind him. "Keep in the trees and stay hidden! I have to do this alone!" A jet of green light flew just inches past Harry's face.

"No, Harry," Hermione argued stubbornly, "We know you have to destroy Voldemort on your own, but that doesn't mean that we can't help you along the way. We're here for you, and we're not leaving you. We'll do anything to help you."

"Oh, how _touching_," Harry's enemy gushed with cruel mockery, "Do you hear that, Harry? They won't leave your side! They can die protecting you just as your foolish Mudblood mother did. Pity they can't stay afterward and watch you die."

The Dark Lord circled around the trio, while the Death Eaters prowled about in the background, following the instructions from their master and not intervening. Voldemort smirked at the three teenagers, intending to frighten them. He was confident he could defeat these inferior, ridiculous children.

"Don't touch them," Harry warned in a low and deadly voice, furious at this creature for all the years of pain and anguish he had caused everyone. "You won't kill them, and you won't kill me."

Lord Voldemort laughed tauntingly. Hermione raised her wand, but unfortunately he was too quick. She was lifted into the air and thrown backward, hitting a tree in the very same graveyard in which Harry had been in, in his fourth year. She let out a moan of pain, her head throbbing as blood from scratches and cuts ran down her face and arms. Ron glanced back at her nervously, but turned back around to keep his watch on Voldemort.

"Silly girl," the Dark Lord said with a smirk.

Still glaring at his opponent, Harry hissed to his remaining friend, "Ron, get out of here before you get hurt too! Go back to Hermione!"

"No. Shut up, Harry, and concentrate on him. Don't worry about us," Ron commanded.

"I can't fight if I know that you and Hermione are in danger or are hurt. Go back to Hermione," Harry said slowly and firmly, maintaining a deadly glare on his opponent.

"Yes," Voldemort agreed with amusement, staring with narrowed eyes straight into Harry's eyes all the while, "do go back to your dearest Mudblood girl so I can have Harry here all to myself."

"Go, Ron!" Harry ordered through gritted teeth.

Ron turned anxiously and ran to Hermione. She was close to the state of unconsciousness. He stroked her hair and gently shook her. "Hermione. You have to stay conscious. Don't go down, not now."

She fluttered her eyes open and looked up at Ron with her brow furrowed in pain. He suddenly realized that she was in no state to fight. He couldn't let her go out there when she was in this much pain, for she had hit the tree _hard_. "Just stay here. I'll go out there and fight. If you feel better, you decide if you want to come back to the battle," Ron whispered to her, then he turned and re-entered the war.

After that, the war became more and more violent and intense. By then, all of the Death Eaters were either dead or had fled. Hermione watched painfully as she saw Voldemort performing the Cruciatus Curse on her two friends. Each time one of them would undergo the curse, she would start weeping, and tears would stream down her face. Their screams of torture alone put anguish in Hermione's heart.

Finally, after many bruises, scrapes, curses, and open wounds, Voldemort was visibly weakening. Although he was weak, he was getting more determined and aggressive. "You won't take me down, Potter," he hissed, panic and determination flashing across his eyes. With a tone of triumph, he cried, "I will defeat you!"

Ron abruptly raised his wand and pointed it at Voldemort. As the Dark Lord blocked the curse, he laughed a mad and merciless laugh and shouted, "_Abrogo Oculus_!"

A blinding, bright white light shone from the Dark Lord's wand and hit Ron directly in his face. Ron's hands flew to his face, covering it and shielding his eyes as he screamed in agony. As he fell to the ground, a green light flashed. The darkest wizard of all time dropped to the ground, his eyes losing their color, and his body paralyzed in a final and permanent death. He was finally defeated by the Boy Who Lived, by the Chosen One, by Harry Potter . . . and by a great sacrifice from a true friend.

All was silent, and not a thing could be heard, except for a weary, desperate voice, filled with heartbreak and distress. "_RON!_" screamed his lover while warm, salty tears ran silently down her dirty face.


	2. Chapter 1: Meeting Up

**New Eyes**

Chapter One—Meeting Up

∙ ∙ ∙

Twenty-one year old Hermione Granger looked around and inspected the street she was on. The small, narrow lane was crowded with people shopping around in the numerous shops that lined it. It stretched out and curved to the right, so that if a person walked all the way down the road, they would find that it almost made a full circle until it dead-ended right before it met the beginning part of the road. This peculiar road that Hermione was standing on was in fact much like Diagon Alley. It was similar the Diagon Alley in that it was a hidden wizard street and had many shops that sold magical items. However, it was different in that it was much smaller, had fewer shops, was very recent, and was in northern England.

As Hermione gazed at the shops, she spotted a particular one that had many people—many of them young—coming in and out of it. It seemed like a good place to start, so she made her way toward it. When she was close enough to read the name of the store, she saw that it was a bookstore, which made sense since summer was ending, and school at Hogwarts would be starting soon.

Hermione entered the bookshop and walked straight to the counter. The elderly man behind it was unpacking a load of books out of a crate and was humming quietly to himself. Hermione cleared her throat and said, "Excuse me."

The man straightened up and looked at Hermione. He gave her a bright smile and said, "Hello. What can I do for you today, ma'am?"

"Well, I was wondering if you knew anyone that lives around here by the name of Neville Longbottom."

The shopkeeper furrowed his eyebrows in thought and scratched his chin. "Neville Longbottom . . . Longbottom . . . Longbottom," he muttered thoughtfully. "The name Longbottom sounds vaguely familiar. I'm sure I've heard it somewhere; I just can't seem to place where. Hm . . . I'll tell you what. Go down to the Apothecary down the street and ask for Eliot Plaskett. He's my brother and the owner of the shop. He has a much better memory me and might be able to tell you whether or not this Longbottom bloke lives around here."

"Thank you so much," Hermione said with a grateful tone, "I'll definitely do that. Thanks again."

She waved to him as she walked out the door, and then headed down the road until the Apothecary appeared. The shop smelled similar to the Apothecary in Diagon Alley, except the scent here wasn't quite as strong. Hermione walked to the counter and saw a man behind it who was filling out some sort of form on a clipboard. "Excuse me," she said, "May I speak with Eliot Plaskett please?"

The man looked up and replied, "You're talking to him. Do you need help with something, miss?"

"Yes, actually. I was at the bookstore up the street, and your brother told me you might be of help. You see, I'm looking for a man named Neville Longbottom. Do you know him?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" Eliot Plaskett exclaimed, "I get all of my roots and other necessary plants from him. He's a superb herbologist, you know. His wife Luna Longbottom is also a writer for _The Quibbler_. Great bunch, they are."

Hermione's eyes widened with excitement. "Fantastic! Do you know where they live? I really need to find them."

"Yes, yes, I know where they live. I have to ask though. Do you know them? I wouldn't want to be giving out their address to random people."

"I do know them. I went to school with them at Hogwarts a few years ago, and I just wanted to meet up with them."

The shopkeeper looked at her suspiciously. "Alright," he said as he took out a piece of parchment, "I'll give you their address. It shouldn't be too hard to find them; this is a fairly small village." He handed the scrap of parchment to her and Hermione thanked him. "Have a good day, ma'am."

•∙•∙•

Hermione examined at the house that stood before her. It was a quaint, two-story house that held a friendly and inviting quality about it. She slowly walked up to the door, grabbed the brass knocker shaped like some sort of exotic plant, and rapped it loudly against the door. She waited a short while until a faint sound of footsteps could be heard. A couple moments later, the door was unlocked, and it opened to reveal a pretty blond witch who was wearing light blue robes made of shimmery materiel that matched nicely with her curious, wide blue eyes.

"Hermione? Is that you?" the blond woman asked with excitement.

"Luna?"

The two witches briefly embraced each other and went inside the house. The interior of the house was neat, comfortable and quite roomy. Luna led Hermione into the living room and offered her a seat on the squashy leather sofa. "Wait right here while I go and get Neville," Luna instructed elatedly, "He'll be delighted to see you."

As Luna ran up the stairs to fetch her husband, Hermione looked around the place. There were many pictures of Luna and Neville together and many photographs and keepsakes of Hogwarts. However, what was remarkable about the residence was that it was filled with various types of bizarre and unusual plant life. In every corner and against every wall was an odd kind of plant, making the inside of the house look like one of the greenhouses at Hogwarts. It was truly a spectacular sight.

"Hermione!" Neville cried as he came down the stairs to greet the witch in his living room. He was a lot taller and skinnier than when Hermione had last seen him and was actually getting to look quite handsome. "How've you been?"

A friendly, yet weary grin appeared on Hermione's face as Neville descended the stairs. "I'm not sure how to answer that question, Neville," responded Hermione, "But, for now, let's just say that I've been fine. How have _you_ been? I see that you and Luna have gotten married."

Neville and Luna looked embarrassed for a moment and looked at each other. "Yeah, we did," Neville said almost dreamily, "We decided on a small wedding with immediate family only though. So, don't feel bad that you didn't get invited. It's just that we wanted it simple."

"That's alright. I completely understand."

"So, what brings you here?"

Hermione looked sadly at her lap. "I need your help."

"Go on," Neville said encouragingly as he and Luna took their seats in the love-seat adjacent to the sofa.

"Well, you see, three years ago . . ." Hermione grew quiet and swallowed whatever moisture was left in her mouth. Her face fell as she commenced her story, "Ron went missing." As these words left her mouth, memories of the night after the war came flooding back to her:

_"Hermione! We have to get him to the Burrow!" Harry shouted, panic twining around his every word._

_Hermione suddenly came to her senses and ran to Harry's assistance. "What happened, Harry? What happened to him? We have to help him. We have to take him to St. Mungo's—" she rambled with sheer hysteria, nearly in a state of madness. Tears streamed down her face. All the events of the night were so overwhelming and terrifying, and made Hermione want to collapse under it all._

_"You need to calm down, Hermione," Harry interrupted her, "We can't take him to St. Mungo's; the hospital won't be much help to Ron once the word gets out that the Dark Lord has finally been destroyed. We need to take him to the Burrow for now. After the news is exposed, we'll take him to the hospital."_

_Hermione closed her eyes and nodded as more tears fell out of her eyes._

_"Grab him and Apparate to the Burrow," Harry commanded._

_She did as she was told and disappeared with a loud_ pop_ that echoed in the silence of the graveyard. A second_ pop_ followed, and Harry disappeared as well, leaving the quiet graveyard empty in the night._

_The three dirty teenagers Apparated a split second afterward outside of the Burrow. Harry and Hermione carried Ron inside where Mrs. Weasley was waiting. When she saw Ron, she burst into tears and embraced all three of them tightly. Then, she, Harry, and Hermione carried Ron to the settee in the living room. After laying Ron down, everyone went to sleep, for they were all exhausted from the eventful and worrisome night._

_•∙•∙•_

_"Hermione! Wake up!" Mrs. Weasley said, frantically shaking Hermione awake._

_Hermione groggily rubbed her eyes. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table which read 6:51 A.M., and looked at Mrs. Weasley in confusion. "What is it?" she asked, concerned._

_"Do you know where Ron is? I can't find him."_

_Hermione sat straight up. This couldn't be a good sign at all. Once Harry was up, they all searched carefully around the house, in the backyard, everywhere. Ron was nowhere to be found, nor was any note to explain what had happened to him. A few days later, there was still no sign of him. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. He was gone._

Neville and Luna glanced at each other while Hermione continued. "For the past three years," she said, "Harry, Ginny, and I have been trying to search for him, while somehow maintaining a job. The first two years went by slowly, and we seemed to be getting nowhere, so this year we decided to search separately in order to speed things up a bit. I came here hoping that maybe you would have some idea on where he would be." A small glimmer of hope was visible in her eyes as she looked up at the couple.

Luna briefly looked at Neville again and took a deep breath. She turned to Hermione and said, "We . . . know where he is."

Hermione's eyes enlarged significantly and she jumped up from the sofa, then she changed her mind and sat down again. For a moment she was simply speechless, then, "What?!"

"We had no idea that everyone was looking for him," Luna explained.

"How long—when did—" Hermione stuttered.

Neville interrupted her, "Right after the war. He showed up at my house, really depressed. I'm not sure how he found me, exactly; he never said. About half a year later I moved out and took him with me here to northern England. I helped him get his own little cabin, which isn't owned by anyone, in the woods. Conveniently, it's not far from here, so Luna and I visit him frequently to help him with anything. He's pretty happy with his place, but he's still a bit depressed.

"He likes being alone. The memories from the war really affected him, and he's a lot more mature than before. It changed him so much; he's hardly recognizable now."

Hermione took a moment to absorb this shocking information, then said in a hoarse whisper, "We all changed. The memories really affected Harry and me too. . . . Is that why he came to you? Were the memories too painful for him?"

"Yes," Neville answered, "but I think the main reason why he came to me was because he was scared about what happened . . . you know . . . the accident." He grew quiet.

Confusion flickered across Hermione's face. "I don't understand. What accident? I thought he just got knocked out really badly. . . ." she slowly trailed off. She thought it over a moment and then explained a bit more. "Actually, we didn't know _what_ happened to him. Harry and I researched the curse that hit him, but we found absolutely nothing. After that, we just settled on the fact that he got badly knocked out, and the spell was simply invented by Voldemort. We accepted the idea after a while." She paused. "Is there more?" she inquired, wishing desperately that there wasn't anything else. Her heart beat slightly faster.

Colour left Neville's face and Luna suddenly looked nervous. "You mean you don't know?" Luna asked Hermione.

Hermione shook her head, now getting more suspicious and worried.

Neville looked at Hermione sadly. Cautiously he said, "Hermione . . . Ron's blind."


	3. Chapter 2: Unravelled

**New Eyes**

Chapter Two—Unravelled

∙ ∙ ∙

A sharp stab of pain plunged through Hermione's heart as Neville's appalling, unanticipated words reached her ears. All sounds around her went mute and her vision was blocked. Her mind and body felt numb and unconscious as those tragic words echoed endlessly in her brain. _Blind . . . blind . . . he's blind . . . _Suddenly nothing made sense. All of Hermione's knowledge and wisdom that she had so carefully accumulated over the years seemed to melt away. She felt empty.

Without warning, she became dizzy, and her sight and hearing returned. She dropped her head in her hands, noticing that her skin had turned cold. Her stomach lurched and a wave of nausea swept through her body, causing her hands to shake.

"Hermione?" Hermione heard Luna saying her name in a distance. "Hermione, do you need a drink of water?"

Hermione didn't reply, but instead reiterated in her mind once again those dreadful words that Neville had spoken. Suddenly she realized that someone was tapping her. She lifted her heavy head and looked up to see Luna holding out a goblet of water out to her. Hermione reached out with a shaky hand and took the goblet from her.

"Drink it," Luna said. "It'll help."

Hermione drank a long gulp of water and immediately felt her body calm down a bit. However, the initial shock of the news still remained.

"Are you okay?" asked Neville with a hint of concern. "I had no idea that you would react so terribly."

Hermione nodded. "So he's . . . he's . . . _blind?_" she managed in an effortful whisper.

Luna's sad eyes looked at Hermione, and she bowed her head solemnly. Hermione sucked in a full breath of air to avoid the tears that were starting to sting her eyes. Luna got up from her seat next to Neville and sat beside Hermione. Luna put her hand on Hermione's shoulder and said with firm reassurance, "It's all right. Everything is all right." Hermione nodded to show that she understood, but more to convince herself that Luna's words held truth. "I know you're still taken aback," Luna continued, "and this is a little soon, but would you like us to take you to him?"

Hermione looked at Luna with slight shock on her face. She hadn't even thought of that yet. The astounding news from Neville was still playing over and over again in her head. Nothing else had crossed her mind. She _did_, however, want to see him. After three dreadfully long years, it was impossible to wait any longer, especially when he was _so close_. Hermione responded to Luna by nodding slowly and saying, "Yeah . . . Yeah, I want to see him."

"Come on," Neville said, getting up, "We'll take you to his cabin. It's just a couple miles away, but we have to walk there."

As Hermione and her two friends battled their way through the thick trees of the forest, flashes of a small cabin in the distance gradually came into sight. Carefully walking on the narrow path that Neville and Luna had created on previous visits, they eventually drew nearer to the quaint, old-fashioned little cabin. There was a silence as the three of them stood staring at it. Building up her courage, Hermione made her way to the front of the small house.

Standing in front of Ron's door seemed like an amazing dream, a miracle, yet it made Hermione so nervous. Hundreds of questions ran through her mind while she stood there stupidly, just staring at the door. What would she say when she saw him? What would _he_ say? What would he look like? Would he still remember her? Would he be happy to "see" her? Would he shut the door in her face? And, most importantly, did he love her the way she loved him? But, chances were that this last question wouldn't be answered that day.

"Hermione," Luna said.

Hermione turned to her.

"We're going to go. We have a few things we need to buy in the village. After that, we'll be back at our house. So, if you're planning on staying here for a few days, you're welcome to stay at our place," Luna said cheerily as she smiled her famous faraway smile at Hermione; then she turned around with Neville and started walking away.

Turning back to the door, Hermione was swept over with a sense of loneliness, which only made her more anxious. Now that she was actually here in front of Ron's house alone, she didn't feel ready to see him. However, she knew she _had_ to do it. She _had_ to knock on the door and see his face. Three years was too long.

Before she could change her mind, she rapped loudly on the wood of the door. At first it was quiet, but then she heard soft footsteps coming toward the door. The sound of the footsteps made Hermione's heart race wildly. Her breathing quickened, and her arms suddenly felt weak as if there was no blood in them. She heard the door unlock, and it creaked open ever so slowly. Hermione looked at the person who stood in front of her, and her heart broke and swelled at the same.

Ron was about a head taller than her, and his hair was longer and wilder. His face was unshaven, but his freckles still stood out. However, what was most different about Ron was that his eyes were no longer a beautiful and clear ocean-blue color; the color was faded, and a milky white had taken over.

"Who's there?" Ron asked, cautiously reaching for his wand in his pocket. "Neville? Luna?"

"Er–it's me, Ron. Me . . . Hermione," she said slowly in a shaky voice, tears welling up in her eyes.

Ron was silent for a moment, and then he said croakily, "H-Hermione?" He stood there, frozen.

"Mm-hm," came Hermione's squeaky voice. Suddenly she ran into Ron's arms and held him in an extremely tight embrace. Uncontrollable tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt his arms gently wrap around her.

When they let go, Ron asked, "Why are you here?"

"I came to find you," Hermione said, wiping the tears away from her face.

"How did you find me?" he queried dazedly while his eyes wandered aimlessly around in their sockets.

"It's a long story."

"Right. Well, er, d-do you want to come inside?" Ron asked awkwardly, feeling for the door and holding it open for her.

"Er–yeah," Hermione replied. She walked inside the one-roomed cabin and found that it was quite empty and simple, but there was a fire in the fireplace and many other things that gave the home a cozy and welcoming feeling. Even though she knew Ron had changed immensely, the cabin reflected his personality–empty, but welcoming enough to allow a small touch of love.

She felt Ron's hand find the small of her back. He cautiously led her to the kitchen table, which was the only table in the whole cabin and could fit no more than two people, and shakily pulled out the chair, which was the only chair at the table, so Hermione could sit down. She sat down, wondering where Ron was going to sit. He walked into the tiny kitchenette, feeling his way with his hands. Watching him searching around for the tea kettle, Hermione got up to help him. He sensed her presence next to him and said in a slightly stubborn, but gentle way, "Go sit down. I'm fine. I can find it for myself."

Ignoring him completely, Hermione opened one of the four cabinets under the counter and found the kettle. "_You_ go sit down," she insisted while she turned on the stove with her wand, "and _I'll_ make the tea."

"I can manage," Ron protested fiercely, making a blind grab for the kettle in Hermione's hand and missing it by about a foot and a half.

"Ron . . . _please_. Please, just let me help," Hermione begged with a desperate voice.

Taking Ron's silence as a yes, she tenderly took his hand–a daring action that made her breathe unevenly and her heart thump madly–and brought him to the table. "Now, just sit here and let me make the tea, and then, maybe we'll talk," she said softly.

After the tea had been made, and another chair was summoned, Hermione finally sat down with her teacup in hand. "So. . ." she said awkwardly.

"So. . ." repeated Ron, "are you going to tell me how you found me? What's the whole story? I want to hear everything from the day I left, right to this moment."

"Okay," Hermione agreed, taking a deep breath and preparing to tell a much longer and more detailed version of what she told the Longbottoms. "Well, here's my story. . ."

And soon, Hermione's past three years were unravelled as she began her tale.


	4. Chapter 3: C'est la Vie

**New Eyes**

Chapter Three—_C'est la Vie_

∙ ∙ ∙

Hermione finished her story with a concluding sigh. She had just finished telling Ron just about everything that had happened the previous three years–everything except for how miserable she had become, and how passionate her feelings for him had grown, feelings that she soon couldn't keep concealing inside.

"Well," she murmured uncomfortably, "I told you about my past three years, now you tell me about yours. What happened? Why did you run away?" As she said these last few words, agony escaped her mouth and wove itself into her voice.

Ron bowed his head a bit and was silent. After a moment, he began to reveal his own past. "That night. . ." he started in a hoarse and ragged voice, "the night of the battle–after I was put unconscious–I woke up, and . . . I couldn't see anything. At first I thought it was just really dark. Then, I realized that I couldn't see anything when I lit my wand. Once I recognized that I was blind, I went a bit mad. I started shaking all over, and I got scared; I became terrified. I didn't know where I was or what time it was. I didn't know where everyone had gone or even what had happened.

"Eventually I figured out that I was at the Burrow. I felt safer, but I was still extremely afraid. I was afraid of what had happened to me, afraid of what might have happened to Harry . . . and afraid of what might have happened to you,"–here he blushed–"All at once, I decided that I couldn't stay there. I wanted to escape. I _needed_ to escape. I needed to get away from all the memories, and I didn't want to face everyone. I wouldn't have been able to handle it all . . . so I decided to run away.

"I took some Floo powder from the kitchen mantelpiece and Flooed myself to Neville's place, since I knew he lived somewhere in northern England. When I arrived, I explained to Neville and his grandmother my situation and why I was there, and they accepted me into their home. They offered to take me to the hospital, in case the Healers could do anything about my disability, but I refused. I also told them that I didn't want to have any contact with any school friends or my family. They didn't understand why I refused to go to St. Mungo's or why I wanted to stay out of touch with everyone, but they still respected my decisions.

"After about half a year, Neville asked Luna to marry him, and they got engaged. Just following their engagement, Luna and Neville decided to move into their own house. They offered to find me a place near them, and I accepted. So, they moved into the house that they live in now and found me this cabin. Then, about a year and a half after that, they got married. Only immediate family was invited, but since I had been extremely close to the Longbottoms, I was invited too."

Ron finished talking, and there was an icy silence while his sightless eyes darted around freely.

Hermione asked quietly, "Did you go?"

At first, he didn't respond, but then he shook his head slowly and whispered, "No."

"Why not?"

"It was just too. . ." he trailed off.

"Hard?" Hermione finished for him, sadly looking down at her lap. "It would have been too hard, wouldn't have it? Too hard to see other people so happy, while you're aching with unbearable sorrow inside, wallowing in self-pity. . . It's just not fair, is it? That other people don't have such terrible memories to live with, while the rest of us do. It's hard to understand how they can live life so perfectly, while we're scarred for the rest of our lives, making life so much more difficult to live."

Ron looked shocked at how accurately Hermione had described how he felt.

Hermione continued, "I know, Ron. I went through the same arduous process. But, it's one of those things that shouldn't go on forever. Sooner or later, we have to get over it and enjoy the happy, precious moments of life. We can never forget what happened, Ron, but we _can_ let it go and move on. That's how it is; that's life."

Ron didn't speak, and neither did Hermione. After yet another insufferable minute of silence, Hermione spoke up again, pleading anxiously, "Please come back. Everyone misses you terribly, and they're all worried sick about you." A look of desperate hope was plastered on her face.

Ron looked away–or he _would_ have, if he could see–and stuttered, "I-I can't."

Hermione let out a great sigh.

"Why not?" she asked wearily.

"I just . . . can't," Ron croaked, "It would be too hard . . . All the memories. . . They hurt too much."

"Look, I understand, Ron, but you're going to have to get over it some time or another," Hermione said, while impatience and vexation became more detectable in her words, "It's been _three years_ since the war. You _have_ to stop living in the past. Please. Please, Ron, come back. Harry–your family . . . they all miss you. _I_ miss you. We all want you back."

Suddenly, Ron covered his face with his hands. His shoulders started to shake as his spine arched over. Hermione realized with a start that he was crying, and went over to him. She knelt in front of him and took his hands in hers. She said nothing and just let him weep. She made shushing sounds as she rested her head on his side, tears leaving her own eyes–something that was starting to become a habit for her.

Finally, after several minutes of tears, Hermione got a hold of herself and wiped at the streams of bitter tears on her face. Lifting her head off of Ron, she wiped his tears off of his face as well.

"It'll be okay," she assured him with a high, trembling whisper. Rambling on, she continued comforting him, "Everything will be okay–everything _is_ okay. We're fine now. The war's over, and we're free . . . everybody is. There's nothing to worry about. We can be happy now. It really is alright to let go and be joyful–there's nothing wrong with it. Trust me. Avoiding your memories will only make them harsher. Getting through them and accepting them will set them free–they'll set _you_ free. Those horrible memories won't be restrained in your mind any longer."

With a final wipe at her eyes, she sighed, letting the last remnants of her sorrow in the pit of her stomach get blown out and away. She stood up and stared into Ron's eyes for a small moment. Anguish, self-pity, fear, and woe clouded his empty, whitish eyes. She gently grabbed his hand and lifted it up. "Come on," she told him, "let's go for a walk. Let's go down to village and shop around in the stores. If we're going to get you through this awful process, we'd better take it nice and slowly."

Slowly Ron stood up and felt Hermione give him a reassuring squeeze of the hand. To both of their surprise and content, she didn't let go, and continued clutching his hand. Looking up at Ron, Hermione asked delicately, "Are you ready for this?"

There was no answer from Ron, but after a couple seconds of thought, he responded weakly, "Yeah. . ." and then more confidently, "Yeah, I am."


	5. Chapter 4: Dancing in the Rain

**New Eyes**

Chapter Four—Dancing in the Rain

∙ ∙ ∙

After shopping in the village for a little over an hour, Ron and Hermione returned to the cabin deep in the woods. On the walk back, a light drizzle had started, gradually getting heavier as the cabin approached. Soon, by the time that they had actually reached the small house, the top layer of their clothing had more wet spots than dry, and their hair was slightly more wet than damp. Water dripped onto the floor of the cabin as Hermione and Ron rushed inside. Hermione had always loved the rain, but she never got the chance to run freely in it.

"Hurry up," Hermione demanded excitedly, "Put your stuff down, and then let's go outside."

"What?" Ron asked, bewildered. "It's raining outside. We can't go out there."

"Why not?"

Ron considered this for a moment, but remained silent and without an answer.

"Come on," pleaded Hermione, "Please. . ." When Ron didn't answer, Hermione said, "Alright, fine. If you're not going to come, I'll just go out in the rain by myself." She dropped her purchases and raced outside.

For a few glorious seconds, she just stood in front of Ron's home, allowing the rain to drench her. Suddenly getting a great burst of energy, she ran. Not really caring where her feet would lead her, she sprinted aimlessly in any direction. In the rain, she felt graceful, hidden, and protected. The isolation of the rain and the clouds enveloped her, giving her a comforting sense of security. She wondered why she had never taken the time to stand under the rain before. It was one of the best feelings she had ever experienced.

Over the deafening sound of the now pouring rain, Hermione heard the faint sound of someone calling her name. After being puzzled for a couple seconds, she remembered exactly where she was and why she was there. She had been having so much fun that she had lost herself, forgetting everything. She followed the sound of Ron's voice and dashed back to the cabin.

Ron was standing in front of his house in the same spot that Hermione had stood just minutes before, expressing a look of panic and worry on his face. Without thinking, Hermione ran to him and flung her arms around him and rested her head against his shoulder as if she hadn't seen him for decades rather than merely a few minutes. She held him tightly, not wanting to ever let go. Feeling Ron's firm embrace in return brought a feeling of satisfaction and joy to her.

Hermione brought her head up and looked into Ron's clouded eyes, her nose just barely touching his. "Come," she whispered gently, "let's stroll under the rain. Let's get lost in the forest." Her freezing, wet fingers intertwined with his. She led him forward in a random direction, and this time, he willingly followed. "You have to trust me," Hermione breathed softly into Ron's ear as she noticed that he was holding back a little.

She led him into various parts of the forest, taking no care to remember her path. As they got further away from Ron's cabin, the rain became even heavier. Raindrops the size of galleons came chasing down from the heavens, racing each other to Earth. By the time Hermione and Ron had reached a tiny clearing, their drenched hair was clinging to their heads–even Hermione's once bushy hair–and their clothes were soaked with rainwater. The light tan shirt that Hermione was wearing beneath her chocolate brown robes was now see-through, but it didn't matter to Hermione since Ron wouldn't be able to see anyway.

"Don't you love the rain?" Hermione asked dreamily, a blissful grin fastened on her face.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, his own joyful smile creeping onto his lips.

"Let's dance in it," she suggested.

"What? We can't dance here right now. It's pouring. And anyway, we don't have any music to dance to."

"But we don't need any music. And it doesn't matter if it's pouring right now. Besides, the rain makes it even more fun."

Hermione let go of Ron's hand and lifted both her hands to the dark, grey sky. Without any hesitation, she twirled around in circles, closing her eyes and letting the raindrops hit her face. She laughed merrily, causing Ron to want to join in the fun that she was having, even though he couldn't see exactly what she was doing. Whatever it was, it made her sound so happy and at peace.

"Come on! I know you want to join me. It doesn't matter if we act like total idiots. It's not like there's anyone else here watching us." Hermione exclaimed while letting out a cheerful giggle. She swept back to Ron and took him in her arms, holding him close.

She pulled him into the centre of the clearing and spun with him. Finally, a small laugh escaped Ron's mouth, and his laugh gradually grew louder and more persistent. Hermione let go of him and spun around him in a full circle, and eventually, Ron did the same. Hermione smiled to herself, content that Ron was at last showing signs of happiness.

Then, throwing away all traces of anxiety and worry, she brought Ron's body close to hers and softly placed her wet lips onto his. Her eyes closed, and for one heavenly moment, nothing else mattered; it was just him and her, together, pulled into a strange, yet perfect kiss. The world around them spun as their kiss became more passionate and full of emotions. Hermione's arms wrapped around his neck, while Ron's arms found their way to her back and pulled her closer. When their lips finally parted, nothing seemed awkward anymore. They both somehow felt relieved that they didn't have to be so hidden from each other. Their feelings that had been concealed for so many years were finally revealed and out in the open. They were free.

Hermione looked up into Ron's eyes which were eerily looking straight into Hermione's eyes. Suddenly, she couldn't understand why she hadn't ever told Ron her feelings before. They would have had so many more happy times together. Maybe, if they had known how they felt for each other only three years before, Ron might not have left. With this thought in mind, Hermione whispered sternly, "Don't you _ever_ leave me again."

"I won't," Ron said seriously, "I promise."

"Good." Hermione rested her head against his chest, and the couple stood together, cherishing this precious moment.

After many minutes, Ron pulled away and said, "Let's go back. I don't want to get too cold."

"Okay," Hermione agreed. She smiled fondly at him, and started instinctively leading her way through the forest and back to the cabin.

About a half an hour later, they finally found the little house. They came inside, creating massive puddles on the floor. Ron rummaged around his tiny wardrobe looking for a set of dry clothes for Hermione and him to change into, while Hermione warmed butterbeer over the stove. When the butterbeer was warm, she poured it into two goblets and handed one of them to Ron.

"Here," he said, handing her robes, a large T-shirt, and flannel pyjama pants.

She looked at the clothes blankly and said, "You know, we could just dry our clothes with our wands."

"Yeah," replied Ron with a small blush, "I know. But you don't get the same . . . _fresh_ feeling."

"I suppose. . ." Hermione said. She took the clothes with a little smirk.

Once both of them were changed, they sat together on Ron's old, but incredibly comfortable love-seat, sipping their goblets of butterbeer. Occasionally, Hermione nuzzled her still cold nose fondly into Ron's neck. They listened peacefully to the rain pound against the walls and roof of the cabin. Everything was perfect . . . _except_–

"Ron! I'm so sorry I'm late! It started raining and–" The woman who had just burst in through the door stopped talking abruptly and stared at Hermione and Ron on the small sofa.

Ron jumped up from the love-seat, a look of dread and horror on his face.

"Who's she?" the strange lady wondered.

"She's–erm–well, she's just–er–this . . . is Hermione," Ron stuttered nervously.

Hermione stood up and looked suspiciously from Ron to the woman. "Who are you?" she asked the stranger.

"I'm–"

"She's someone that I know," Ron cut in.

"I'm Ivy," the woman said, glaring at Hermione. "Why are you here? Are you a friend of Ron's? He's never talked about anyone besides Luna and Neville before."

"Actually, if you don't mind me asking, why are _you_ here?" Hermione asked, a tone of nastiness hidden somewhere in her voice.

Ivy gave a light laugh and answered, "Why am I here? I'm his girlfriend, that's why I'm here."

For the second time that day, Hermione's heart gave another painful twinge as it sank to the bottom of her stomach.

"She's not my girlfriend," Ron said hurriedly.

"Not your girlfriend?" Ivy asked incredulously. "What do you call it when I come over every day just to see you, kiss you, and sleep with you? Certainly not just a friend, I'd think."

All of the contentment and happiness that Hermione had felt merely a couple minutes before melted away as jealousy bubbled in the pit of her stomach and sorrow widened the hole that was forming in her heart; just because of four simple, but hurtful words–_there was another woman._


	6. Chapter 5: Running

**New Eyes**

Chapter Five—Running

∙ ∙ ∙

The world shattered around Hermione, the broken pieces of the universe falling and slicing open the centre of her heart.

"Oh . . . Okay," she said, her voice quivering with a growing bitterness. "Well, I'll just . . . leave then. I wouldn't want to take up any time that you two could be spending together." Hermione pointed her eyes downward just after catching the spiteful smirk that Ivy was flashing her.

"Wait, Hermione," Ron begged desperately.

"No, Ron. You have a _girlfriend_ to attend to," argued Hermione, putting an extra emphasis of virulence into the word _girlfriend_.

"Hermione, let me–"

Hermione interrupted, "I'll be at the Longbottoms' tonight. In the morning, I'm planning on going back to the Burrow. I'll let everyone know that I've found you."

"Don't–" began Ron.

"Goodbye," Hermione retorted. Opening the door, Hermione stormed out, not bothering to take with her the few things that she had bought in the village. She slammed the door behind her.

All she wanted to do was run and forget everything. She didn't want to feel anything, and wanted so badly for the aching pain in her heart to go away. But it wouldn't. As the rain pounded against her body, and her feet led her somewhere far away from the little cabin, Hermione couldn't help but let out a few uncontrollable tears of anger and hurt.

When her legs could carry her no further, and her lungs felt ready to burst, she collapsed to the unfamiliar and sodden ground. Sitting on her heels, Hermione raised her head to look up at the sky. Raindrops sped from the gloomy clouds and fell in her squinted eyes. The sting of the rain made more tears prickle at the back of her eyes, and soon, tears rolled out and mingled with the cold bite of the water falling from the sky.

How was it that in so little time, such perfection could be ruined? And how was it that her feelings could change so quickly under the same silvery clouds? Before, the rain had brought Hermione a great sense of euphoria. Now, all that was present in her body was a sickening stab of jealousy and sorrow. These unwanted emotions dominated her mind, body, and soul, gnawing away at her tightened heart. Just when Hermione thought that everything was perfect, Ivy waltzed right into her life, and suddenly all traces of joy had evanesced.

After sitting under the rain for ten minutes, getting fully soaked and dirty all over again, Hermione heard Ron's desperate voice calling out to her. Not wanting to face him, she got up and moved in the direction that she hoped was away from his voice. Instead, his voice seemed to becoming louder and closer, until finally, he seemed to be right behind her.

Hermione whipped around to see Ron flailing his arms wildly to guide his way. "Hermione!" he called out. He stopped moving, sensing that another person was present. "Hermione?"

Hermione inched backward slowly, trying not to make a loud sound that the pounding of the rain wouldn't cover. Ron was now hardly a foot away.

_Splash!_

Hermione stepped backward into a large puddle, and Ron quickly grabbed at the area in front of him, managing to seize her robes. Hermione tried to yank her robes back, but Ron's hold was to strong. "Hermione, please don't try and run," pleaded Ron. "At least let me explain. You need to listen to me."

Hermione wanted to hear what he had to say, yet she also didn't. Frustration poked at the back of her eyes, making her want to sob even more, and her heart tore with love and resentment. Slowly, Ron let go of her robes.

"Ivy's not my girlfriend, even though she says she is," he explained.

"It sounds like she is to me."

"Well, she's not. I told her that what we had between us wasn't serious, and I told her that it never would get serious. I thought that she understood, but she apparently didn't."

"Why did you even get involved with her in the first place?"

Ron paused, almost reluctant to say what he was about to say.

"I . . . well, I was miserable without you, and since I couldn't go back, I . . . well, I guess I replaced you with Ivy." He pointed his head downward in shame. "I'm really sorry. It's just that I never thought that you would come looking for me."

Hermione listened to Ron's words, and she almost wanted to forgive him. After all, he didn't exactly cheat on her or do anything wrong. However, she wanted to blame him for causing her pain, even though she knew that he didn't mean to. She _wanted_ to be mad at him, and she _wanted_ him to feel responsible for all the horrible feelings she was experiencing.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she whispered bitterly, "but it's too late now."

Turning on her heel, she ran off in a direction that she hoped would lead her to the Longbottoms' house. After running for about forty-five minutes, she finally made it out of the forest. She walked to Luna and Neville's house, getting positively drenched on the way. When she got there, she knocked loudly on the door with the brass knocker and waited for someone to open the door.

Footsteps sounded inside, and then, a few moments later, the door was opened. "Hermione!" Neville exclaimed, surprised that Hermione had come over during the rainstorm. "You're soaking wet," he cried, unnecessarily stating the obvious. "Come inside, and we'll get you dried off."

Hermione gratefully stepped inside, dripping enormous amounts of water onto the floor. The smell of the half-eaten dinner that was sitting on the table in the kitchen drifted to Hermione, causing her stomach to grumble with hunger.

Neville touched Hermione with his wand. In a second, her clothes were dry and clean, and her hair was back to its regular bushiness. She took out her own wand, and with a casual flick of her wrist, the puddles behind her vanished.

Neville eyed Hermione's clothes suspiciously and asked with slight confusion, "Er, Hermione, why are you wearing pyjama pants, and why are you wearing Ron's robes and shirt?"

Hermione looked down at the clothing on her body; she had completely forgotten that she was wearing Ron's clothes. "Oh, erm, well all of my clothes were wet and dirty, and I guess we just . . . forgot that we had wands."

Neville, unconvinced, shrugged. Luna emerged from the kitchen, wondering what was taking Neville so long to open the door. Seeing Hermione, her face lit up. "Hermione!" she exclaimed cheerily. "I'm so glad you decided to stay. . . Why did you come in the rain?" Luna's excited expression turned to one of puzzlement.

"Erm . . . well . . . i-it doesn't matter," Hermione managed to stutter, looking away and hoping to avoid any further questions.

Luna's already wide eyes grew wider as if something had just dawned on her. "Oh!" she exclaimed softly, suddenly realising what must have happened. "Oh," she said again, her face falling, "You met Ivy, didn't you?"

Hermione looked up, amazed at how quickly Luna had guessed the situation. "How did you–?" she began.

Luna interrupted, her face more serious than Hermione had ever seen it, "Be careful, Hermione. I'd keep out of her way as much as possible if I were you. She's not exactly the . . . _pleasantest_ person to associate with. Just try and watch out for her. . ." Saying these last few words, Luna slipped back to her regular dreamy state and stared off into an invisible space in front of her, as if in a trance.

Luna's warning stung Hermione like a bitter lemon's juice burning in the back of her mouth, and a sickening feeling of doom settled in the bottom of the stomach. How could she _not_ be involved in the situation? How could she avoid it?

"Come," Luna said, quickly snapping out of her trance and switching to a brighter mood, "You must be hungry. Let's finish dinner, and then I think we'd all do with a good night's sleep."

Early the next morning, Hermione woke up and found wet streets and bright sunshine peaking out of the disappearing clouds. Neville and Luna were still sleeping, so Hermione took out a novel and read it in her bed, something she'd always loved doing. About an hour later, Hermione could feel her stomach protesting against the early hours of the morning and begging for food. She put her book down and tiptoed quietly downstairs. She searched the cupboards in the kitchen, and a few minutes later, settled on toast.

While she waited for the bread to toast, she took out her wand and started a fire in the fireplace; for although it was warm and cosy in her bed upstairs, it was quite chilly down here. She sat in front of the fire in an attempt to warm up, and took out her novel and continued reading.

Just when she turned the page, the plant-shaped knocker outside tapped against the door. Hermione looked up from her book. She wondered why anyone would come to Neville and Luna's house this early in the morning. Setting her book on the table, she walked over to the door. Her hand turned the knob, and the door creaked open.

There stood a woman with dark, black hair that reached to her waist, which contrasted greatly against her light and pale complexion. Eyes of dark blue pierced Hermione with threat.

_Ivy._


	7. Chapter 6: Baby Talk

**New Eyes**

Chapter Six—Baby Talk

∙ ∙ ∙

Silence thickened the air between the two women. "Hello," Hermione finally said in the politest tone she could muster. She had a feeling that whatever Ivy had come to do or say wouldn't improve any situations. "Is there something you wanted?" inquired Hermione. Her lips burned with nastiness, a tone she never thought a stranger would hear coming from her.

"Yes, actually," Ivy retaliated, mirroring Hermione's odious attitude. "I need to talk to you."

"Erm, okay. . ." Hermione responded uncertainly, quickly losing the air of snobbery and superiority that she had held a few seconds earlier.

Before Hermione could take another breath to invite the unwelcome visitor inside, Ivy pushed past her and entered the house. She sat herself down on the sofa and waited expectantly for Hermione to sit on the smaller one. Hermione walked to it and sat down with a mixture of confusion and annoyance on her face. "So, what did you want?" asked Hermione.

"Well, erm, I came here because there's something that I need to tell you," Ivy began. False uncertainty twisted around her words. "You need to leave Ron and me alone. You see, I believe that we're going to be starting a family soon."

Lines formed between Hermione's eyebrows in bewilderment. Slowly, she said, "I don't understand. . ."

Irritation appeared on Ivy's face for a brief moment, but she hastily hid it with fake patience. "Well, a few days ago I. . ." she hesitated and looked down at her folded hands on her lap, "I found out that I'm . . . pregnant." She stopped to create a dramatic pause and to let Hermione drink in the unexpected news.

Hermione took a breath to say something, but Ivy interrupted, "So, I would appreciate it if you left us alone. I don't want you to interfere with our lives by becoming too . . . involved. I understand that you two had some sort of relationship before. Right now, I think it would be best if you just stayed friends and nothing more. After all, I wouldn't want my child to grow up thinking it had two mothers." Ivy laughed dryly.

Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes, but she breathed in deeply and blinked several times to stop them from spilling over. She had cried enough yesterday; she didn't want to start today off with tears too. As the tightness in her throat gradually left, she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were pregnant. I'll be going home today, and I'll let his family know the good news.

"I have to finish packing," continued Hermione after a short pause, "I might stop by later to say good-bye to him." She stood up and walked defiantly to the door. Holding it open, Hermione waited for Ivy to leave. Ivy got up and eyed Hermione with her piercing, sapphire-coloured eyes as she walked out the door.

Hermione shut the door the moment Ivy was out. Her head rested against it, and she sucked in oxygen. The tears this time were even harder to repress. After a few seconds, she picked up her book and went back upstairs to her temporary room. Although she didn't actually have luggage to pack, she gathered together the few things she had brought from home.

•∙•∙•

Later in the day, she walked over to Ron's cabin to say her farewell. Her knuckles tapped sharply against the door of wood, and she waited patiently for it to be opened. A second later, the hinges squeaked, and the door cracked open, revealing Ron and no sign of Ivy.

"Hermione," sighed a relieved-sounding Ron, somehow knowing that it was, indeed, Hermione at the door. "You're back."

"I'm back," she confirmed solemnly, and then paused, for what she had to say next was difficult—simple, yes, but difficult, "but only to say good-bye."

Ron's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement, and his face slowly fell. "What do you mean?" asked Ron, his voice gradually dropping to a soft murmur, "Why are you leaving?"

Hermione's chapped lips pursed, and her back muscles suddenly became rigid with a spontaneous bitterness. "Because," she answered unpleasantly, "you can't exactly expect me to stay here with you when you have another little secret that you failed to mention to me. Luckily, however, Ivy so _kindly_ told me what you had managed to conceal from me all this time. But honestly, Ron, why didn't you just tell me? It would have been so much easier if you had."

Ron's face revealed a combination of shock and, most of all, perplexity. "Hermione, what the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Air rushed out of Hermione's mouth as an exasperated sigh. Her eyes glowered savagely into Ron's milky-white ones as she snapped hurriedly, "Ron, you know perfectly well what I'm talking about. You've already hurt me enough. You don't have to hurt me any further by pretending that you have not even a notion about what I'm speaking of when I know you _do_ know exactly what I'm talking about!"

Even more taken aback, Ron still appeared to have no idea what Hermione was ranting on about. "Really, Hermione, I haven't the slightest clue."

Hermione groaned loudly. "The baby, Ron, the baby! The pregnancy! The child that you and Ivy have created, the one that is in her stomach this very second! I think that a _baby_ might be a big enough obstacle in a relationship between you and me, especially _Ivy's _baby. Don't get me wrong, though. I do—_did_ want to start a family with you sometime in the future. . . . I guess that's not possible anymore."

Any expressions that had been present in Ron's face before vanished. His face paled, and his eyes widened. In a deadly, quivering voice, he said, "Pregnant? Is that what she told you?"

"Ron, what are you talking about?" Hermione demanded, frustrated. Sudden realization hit her. "She didn't tell you . . . did she?" said a disgusted Hermione.

The scarlet colour of fury crept up to Ron's face in contrast to his previous face of white.

Immediately, Hermione regretted blowing up at him. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said in a much softer voice, "I had thought—I'd _assumed_ that Ivy would have enough sense to tell you first."

Pointing his head down, Ron said, "I did too. But I guess there's not much I can do about it now."

There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Hermione said, "I suppose I should go now. I'll tell your family about the news." She paused a few seconds, willing to do anything to prolong her time here with Ron. But then she said, "Good-bye, Ron." She knew it was an abrupt and awful way to leave him, but there was nothing else she could think of doing.

She pivoted around and walked away from the cabin, almost expecting to hear Ron's familiar protests; however, no words escaped his lips. Her head rotated to the right so that she would capture a final glimpse of him. As she turned back, she couldn't help but think that it was all for nothing. For three years, she had spent her limited, sacred time searching for him. To keep herself going, to stop herself from giving up and abandoning hope in finding him, she had put a perfect, fantastical picture in her head, that one day, everything would be back to normal, and that all the hard work and effort she had put into her search for him would soon pay off. Maybe, one day, she could be happy.

But, her ridiculous dreams of a perfect life came crashing down. No, life was not that way, for life wasn't perfect—life _isn't_ perfect. _But, did it have to be so _im_perfect?_ she asked herself. Three years of tedious searching, and all she got paid back with was this: betrayal and deceit.

As Hermione prepared to Apparate back to the Burrow, two lone, silvery tears slid down the sides of her face. Wiping them away with her shaking hand, she disappeared with a crack, leaving a distinct echo that seemed to sing with grief in the silent afternoon air.


	8. Chapter 7: Alone

**New Eyes**

Chapter Seven—Alone

∙ ∙ ∙

_Pop!_ Hermione's body materialised in front of the Burrow's front door. Her fingers rested on the doorknob for a small time; and in that time confusing feelings tingled in her body. Instead of anticipating the joy in telling the Weasleys about finding Ron, fear crept its way into her stomach—a fear of confirming the disappointing truth she was required to pass on.

Before fear and anxiety took over, Hermione pulled open the door and stepped inside the house. Mrs. Weasley, who was chopping up various vegetables, washing dishes, and scrubbing potatoes with magic, turned around and looked at Hermione with an expression of mild shock.

"Hermione! You're back so soon! We're having a dinner for Ginny tonight, so it's good that you'll be joining us," Molly said as she briefly embraced Hermione.

"A dinner for Ginny? How come?"

"She's moving in with Harry, and it's just our way of saying good-bye," Molly answered proudly, yet a glint of melancholy hid in her eyes at the prospect of her only daughter and last child moving out.

"Oh, that's lovely! I'm so happy for her," exclaimed Hermione with a distant smile.

At that moment emerald flames exploded in the fireplace, and Fred—or maybe George—stepped into the kitchen. He grinned happily at Hermione and his mother while he brushed ashes off his velvety purple robes, which clashed terribly with his violently orange hair. "Hi, Mum," he said and nodded at Hermione in acknowledgement. "How y'doing, Hermione?"

"I'm fine, and you?" she said politely, "How's your shop running?"

George—or perhaps it was Fred—opened his mouth to reply, but brilliant green fire erupted once again in the giant fireplace, and out walked the other Weasley twin. "Sorry we're late, Mum, but Fred and I had loads of owl-order items that we had to send out." George seemed a bit frazzled, but was nevertheless smiling proudly at the success of his and Fred's shop. "Hey Hermione," he said, finally noticing her, "I didn't know you were coming for dinner. I thought you would still be away looking for Ron." His face suddenly turned solemn at the mention of his brother. "Any luck this time?" he asked doubtfully.

"Actually—"

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ginny, descending the stairs. "I'm so glad you could make it for the dinner tonight." Her smile fell at the slightest bit of puzzlement. She asked, "Why are you back so soon? You just left a couple days ago, didn't you?"

Hermione looked around at the Weasleys. It was time to tell them, and she knew it. She would answer the question, and the Weasleys would rejoice as Hermione internally crumbled, unnoticed. With her eyes pointed down, she said quite simply, "I found him."

Everyone was silent for a second. Then, Mrs. Weasley suddenly began sobbing; Ginny rushed over to Hermione and hugged her with watery eyes; and the twins clapped Hermione on the shoulders in gratitude. Everybody seemed joyous except Hermione.

"Hermione, why didn't you bring him back with you? I want to see him," said Ginny.

The second dreadful question had come, and now Hermione had to explain why Ron wasn't here with her—a task she wasn't sure if she was completely ready for. Nonetheless, the question was asked, and the question would have to be answered. "He has a girlfriend," she explained softly, "and she's pregnant with his child. They just found out and are still getting over the shock, I suppose, so they're not coming. But I expect they'll visit eventually, just not today."

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips in anger and disappointment, and bowed her head toward the floor.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said in desperation to ease the uncomfortable silence.

"Rubbish, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said, "You did nothing wrong. You haven't anything to be sorry about."

"Who is she?" inquired Ginny quietly, "What's her name?"

"Ivy." The word stung the air in such an uncanny way—like audible poison, streaking the atmosphere with horrible black dashes of deathly toxin.

Nobody said anything for a few moments, and then George suggested, "Why don't we set the table, Mum. Let's just forget this for now and have dinner."

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley agreed in a far-off voice, "Fred, you set up the table outside, and you can get the silverware and the dishes, George. As for you girls, don't worry about helping today."

"We can help, Mrs. Weasley," offered Hermione.

"You just came back, Hermione, don't worry. And it's Ginny's special night. I'm not going to make her help."

For once the twins didn't complain about the absence of the girls' help. Perhaps it was because they understood their mother's reasons for excusing the girls, or perhaps they were still recovering from the shock. Whatever the reason, they didn't complain, and carried on in the process of setting up dinner without a single uttered word.

Meanwhile, Hermione followed Ginny upstairs to help with the packing and, of course, to discuss in much more detail all that had happened during the short time Hermione was gone. Whilst Hermione revealed the full story, Ginny listened attentively to it like a little child being told a fairytale with wild adventures involving pirates and mermaids. Her task of gathering her things was frequently forgotten, and by the end of the story, only a few of her belongings (some robes and jewellery) had gotten put away in her trunks.

"I can't believe it." It was all Ginny had to say. Her brother's stupidity had gone so much over the top that it was hardly even credible now. "I can't believe it," she repeated.

Hermione had a hard time replying, so she remained silent. Quite suddenly, as if she had been struck in the face, she felt terribly alone. Nobody else knew how she felt—not how she really felt! Ginny had Harry, and Harry had Ginny; they hadn't gone through the same thing she had. They might try to understand Hermione's loneliness, her desperation to be loved, but they would never truly grasp it.

Panic stabbed at her heart. Would she drown in this deadly aloneness? There were millions and millions of people in the world, and it seemed that not a single being would ever know what it was like to be in her position. She had never felt so alone! No one knew what it was to be like Hermione Jane Granger. Before, she had appreciated her uniqueness, the fact that there was only one of her. Now it felt like the most ghastly thing to be without a perfect duplicate, or at least a companion who shared her mind.

Hermione gasped for air, for it seemed that her lungs had temporarily shut down. Ginny asked worriedly, "Hermione, are you all right?"

"Yeah . . . I'm fine," Hermione answered, breathing deeply.

Ginny studied her sceptically before hearing her mother call up to say that Harry had arrived. "Harry's here," she said cheerily, her face lighting up. She raced downstairs, bringing Hermione down too.

Hermione couldn't help smiling when she saw Harry, for she hadn't seen him in a few months. However, the dreadful feeling of lonesomeness remained and left Hermione still feeling hollow. She embraced her friend, and then got ushered outside by Mrs. Weasley for dinner. In the garden, Mr. Weasley and the twins were laying the last few dishes on the table and were sitting down. Arthur greeted Hermione and thanked her with a faint sadness for finding Ron (apparently Mrs. Weasley had told him what Hermione had revealed to the rest of the Weasleys); and she greeted him in return. Soon forks and knives were clanging and glass goblets were clinking while everyone talked amongst themselves—Fred and George were telling their father something about a huge order of Skiving Snackboxes, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were talking about old memories, and Hermione was reiterating to Harry what had happened. He too was shocked that the level of Ron's inanity had reached such a high point—it seemed everyone was disappointed in Ron.

After dinner and pudding—which was, of course, absolutely scrumptious—Hermione Apparated back to her flat. Although she had temporarily forgotten the loneliness that had settled in her heart, she became overwhelmed with it again as the silence of her flat pounded painfully in her ears. How she wished she could share her home with Ron! But for now, her only partner was the ugly isolation that had taken over her soul; and when night finally came, she and her companion went to bed.


	9. Chapter 8: Letters and Emotions

**New Eyes**

Chapter Eight—Terse Letters and a Medley of Emotions

∙ ∙ ∙

The next morning, Hermione woke to find Hedwig pecking endlessly at the bedroom window. As soon as the window was opened, the bird darted inside and waited impatiently on the dresser while Hermione hastily untied the small note from the owl's claw. She fetched some cereal and water for Hedwig before reading what Harry had written her:

_Hermione,_

_Lunch at my place around 12?_

_Harry_

Hermione glanced at the antique clock on the wall. It was half past nine. There was plenty of time for Hedwig to reach Harry before ten o'clock (the two friends' dwellings were not far from each other) and for Hermione to get ready. She scribbled her reply on the back of the parchment, confirming that she'd be there, and sent Hedwig off with it.

After a brief breakfast, she washed up and changed out of her sleepwear. She had a little less than two hours left till she had to be at Harry's, thus she took out the novel she had been reading and read it for some time. When the clock struck 11:45, she Apparated to Harry's flat.

Appearing in the room next to the kitchen, Hermione was absorbed in the delicious cooking smells. Harry came into the room and smiled, pleased to see her; she smiled warmly in return. There was something about the way Harry smiled, though—something that she had never really thought about before. It was somehow wrong, as if he were smiling only out of politeness. It was the way friends greeted each other—it was the way friends _had_ to greet each other; smiles weren't real, were they? Were they really a sign of happiness, or were they merely an emotionless greeting? For what she knew, Harry wasn't actually pleased to see her at all, and for a second she despised him.

No, it was just that creature of desolation attacking her mind again. Of course Harry was pleased to see her! Indeed, Hermione could see plainly his satisfaction etched onto his face. It was silly thinking that his smile was false: it would never be. Relief swept through her as she scolded herself for being so ridiculous.

"Lunch'll be ready in about half an hour. We can talk in the kitchen in the meantime, though," said Harry.

He led her into the kitchen, where Hermione took a seat at the table, and then he joined Ginny at the stove. Within a moment—after Hermione and Ginny had said hello to each other—a conversation was developing, of course about the most obvious subject.

Ginny said, "Hermione, you never told me yesterday—why did Ron run away?"

Hermione could feel all the blood in her face drain away. She had been dreading this moment. Yesterday, it was much too difficult to tell the Weasleys everything: finding Ron; his girlfriend; his soon-to-be child; _and_ his blindness. She had planned on mentioning his blindness with everything else, but once she had told them about those first things, it just seemed to be too much. She had already gotten destroyed from the first revelations; telling the Weasleys about his being blind would have completely crushed her.

She looked up at Ginny and Harry with pitiful eyes, inhaled, and said in barely a whisper, "He's blind."

Both Harry and Ginny turned stark white. Ginny looked as if her soul had gotten knocked out of her for a moment, and Harry's expression was one of devastation. Hermione could hardly stand to see her friends in this state, so she averted her eyes.

"It was Voldemort," explained Hermione, "He blinded Ron that day."

Harry and Ginny said nothing. Hermione continued nervously, "I need you to tell your mum, Ginny. I can't do it, but she needs to know."

Ginny nodded in an absent sort of way. After a few seconds, she said, "I want to see him. Can you take me to him?"

Hermione hadn't been expecting this and was slightly surprised. "Er, yes . . . I suppose," she said, for there wasn't really anything else _to_ say. It wasn't as if she could deny Ginny's request.

"I'm coming too," Harry demanded gently, emerging from his state of shock. Hermione nodded in reply.

They ate lunch in silence afterward, only muttering things occasionally. When the lunch was over and Hermione was back at her flat, she took out some parchment, a quill, and ink. She would write to Ron, she decided, and ask if she could bring Harry and Ginny to his place soon. She picked up her quill and wrote:

_Dear Ron,_

_I've told Harry and your family about everything. The news of your blindness wasn't taken well, as was expected, and they were disappointed about the pregnancy with Ivy. I think they were mostly glad that I'd found you, though. Everyone's positively dying to see you, so I was wondering if it'd be all right if I brought Ginny and Harry to your place in a couple of days. Please let me know soon._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

She specifically left out _who_ exactly didn't take the news of his blindness well. She didn't want him to know how cowardly she had been, after he'd had to explain the whole past three years of his life to her. The comparison was humiliating.

Although she felt guilty for a moment for writing such a short and abrupt letter, she rolled up the parchment paper into a scroll and tied it with some spare string. There was a post office just down the street that she always went to in order to send things by owl (the place where Hermione lived was increasingly developing into a completely non-Muggle community, much like a smaller version of Hogsmeade); she took her letter there and selected one of the fastest owls. Soon, the letter was on its way to Ron's cabin.

Later that afternoon, when it was nearly evening, Hermione was filling out a job application, for she had been unable to maintain a lasting career during her search for Ron. Now that she wouldn't be burdened with her unrelenting determination to find her best friend, settling down with a decent career was ideal. It was during this time when Hermione was filling out the application that she received yet another letter, this time from Ginny.

She opened it and read Ginny's letter, which said as follows:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I told Mum about Ron's blindness. As expected, she broke down sobbing and has been in a down mood since. I so wish there were some way to reverse it all and let Ron be able to see again. I wish we could reverse everything._

_I didn't write you just to tell you that, though. I wanted to know if you had asked Ron yet if we could come over. Sorry to nag, but I'm really anxious to find out. Please tell me as soon as possible._

_Ginny_

Hermione sighed. She turned her head away from the letter as she unwillingly remembered her own agony she had experienced when she had been told of Ron's blindness. She recalled the heart-wrenching shock she'd felt at the moment of the revelation, and she almost felt guilty for having to burden her dearest friends with the same cold slap of truth.

She slowly picked up her quill and wrote a note back to Ginny, stating that she was thankful for having been relieved of the duty of giving the rest of the Weasleys the message. She also wrote that her previous letter—the one to Ron—had been sent out earlier that day and that she was currently awaiting the arrival of the reply.

The letter was sent out immediately after. However, that strange feeling of guilt stuck with Hermione and did not abandon her, no matter how much she tried not to take heed of it. She tried desperately to ignore it and let it drift away, but it seemed that all sorts of queer emotions were inhabiting heart lately. There was nothing she could do except for what she was doing already, and that was to let her feelings take their own courses and to perhaps try to understand them.

**•∙•∙•**

The next day was pretty much uneventful for Hermione. Her flat was tidied up a bit, her job application was completed and sent in, and some reading was squeezed in. Other than that, nothing happened—except that Ron's response finally came. Hermione read it quickly, hoping that if she did, Ron's words wouldn't affect her. Extra emotions were not needed or wanted.

Ron had approved of the visit, and that was all that Hermione needed to know. Without giving it as much as a second thought, she scribbled out a short, quick note to Ginny and Harry, notifying them that tomorrow would be the day that they would see Ron again for the first time in three years.

She wondered if they would be just as nervous as she had been. Come to think of it, _she_ was becoming nervous all over again. Anticipation slyly snuck its way into her heart, growing and spreading fantastically like wildfire. It made her heart beat faster; it made the butterflies in her stomach awaken and jump in uneasy excitement. Nevertheless, she felt ready. Now was no time for the malevolent factor of fear.

Just to reassure herself, she thought confidently, _I am ready._ And indeed, she was.


End file.
